Psycho Something
by yeaka
Summary: Ryou might be going crazy. Discontinued.


Disclaimer: I don't own Yugioh or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.

Warnings: Shonen-ai, uselessness.

A/N: This is a redrabbled version of the extremely old story, 'Psycho Something.' I only redrabbled the first chapter and just removed the rest, because this is really too terrible to exist. Proceed with caution. (The original was dedicated to ragdollsally13.)

* * *

My walls are way too white, and every time I notice this I think I might be going crazy. Although, to be fair, there isn't much else to stare at while I'm bedridden. I should probably paint. Or at least put up a poster or two.

But you probably wouldn't like that, and I'd just wind up bedridden again, with still-white walls and upturned paint cans and shredded scraps of laminated paper to stare at.

I'm late for school because you wouldn't let me in the bathroom to bandage up my arm properly, and the blood kept seeping through the uniform of my shirt. I ripped another shirt and wrapped it underneath; that'll have to do. My 'friends' don't seem to notice, but then, you're careful where you put the bruises.

You think it's funny when you whisper in my ear, '_You're going mad._'

It's all your fault. During class, I'm trying to catch up on sleep that you deprived me of, because really, I'll never amount to anything, anyway. Not with you in my head. My arms are on my desk, my head resting in them, and I almost jump out of my chair when my shoulders are suddenly shaken – I bolt upright. My first instinct is that you're on me again, though rationally you wouldn't come out at school. (Not with Yugi around and the pharaoh so close, anyway.) Besides, I think you like seeing everyone think I'm slipping, not understand what's wrong.

"Whoa, sorry," Joey mutters, scratching the back of his head, standing next to my desk. "You slept through the bell, so I thought I'd wake yah for lunch."

Shaking the sleep out of my eyes, I mumble, "Thank you."

"You okay, man? You look kinda pale."

I'm always pale. I smile weakly and nod. When I look around him they're all staring at me, and I sheepishly offer, "S... sorry... I just zoned out. I'm fine."

They look visibly relieved; it's mildly touching to think they care about me.

'No one cares about you.'

Shut up, yami.

You twinge something in my head – there's a distinct buzz of pain. I wince all over, but Joey's already turned around. They go back to chatting amongst themselves, the classroom otherwise empty.

I straighten up and try not to drift back off – the last thing I need is questions. I also try to pretend I'm not hungry; there wasn't time to make lunch. So I slump back in my seat and stare at the walls, which, coincidentally, are just as colourless and bare as mine.

The blackboard isn't any more interesting. It's covered in mathematic equations, which gives me room for pause – I didn't realize I was in Math. My Biology text is sitting next to my hand. The desks aren't any more interesting, and neither are the empty chairs. We're on the third floor – there's nothing out the window but the other side of a building.

Wondering if the back wall's any better, I turn around in my desk. Then I nearly jump out of my skin, because I thought there wasn't any one else in the room, but there is.

Seto Kaiba isn't eating, either. He's reading a thick book with no picture on the front, looking simultaneously bored and intense. He flips the pages too fast to seem real. For a minute I just stare at him, because he's the most interesting thing I've seen all day.

He doesn't look up until a few minutes later, when I'm still staring. My cheeks flush inexplicably. He lifts an eyebrow, but I don't have anything to say.

"What are you looking at?"

I shrug and murmur, "Nothing," without averting my eyes. I usually do, but his are so hard to look away from. They're a startling shade of cobalt blue, gorgeous and deep and shimmering in the sidelight of the window. I feel like an idiot for thinking that, but I do, and I don't stop thinking about them, even when I turn back around in my seat. Embarrassment has my cheeks glowing.

'You never think about my eyes like that.'

'Your eyes aren't as nice.'

Instantly my head erupts in an ear-splitting pain, enough that I double over across my desk. My hands fly up to clutch at my skull – it feels like you're ripping it apart. I make a strangled gasping sound and almost fall out of my desk.

Tristan ends up taking me to the nurse's office, and she sends me home to you.

You greet me at the door with a wide smirk, claws already open.


End file.
